Expectations
by M. A. Raven
Summary: The first time someone walked in on them, contrary to all forms of popular belief, it was Kurt who freaked out. Kurt/Puck, with a side of Quinn.


**Author's Note:** This follows in the footsteps of "Plain Sight" and "Never Gonna Happen", although they're certainly not required reading to enjoy this. It was written pre-"Acafellas" (1x3), but in light of that episode I still think it works well. Technical spoilers through "Showmance" and the promos aired pre-9/15/09.

* * *

The first time someone walked in on them, contrary to all forms of popular belief, it was Kurt who freaked the fuck out.

To be fair, Quinn wasn't exactly Kurt's favorite person to start with, and him being on the football team and her joining Glee Club had only done so much to improve their relationship. They were civil, but they were still cultural opposites in every way that _really_ mattered.

However, it also wasn't like Quinn opened the door and screamed. Well, not _loudly_, at any rate. While storage closets in general were popular places for swapping spit at McKinley, the shed on the far side of the football field tended to be a little further than most students were willing to walk, especially _after_ classes let out. So there was a strong degree of surprise all around when Kurt and Puck suddenly found themselves blinking into the light of the slowly setting sun.

Quinn gaped incredulously, pointedly _didn't_ look anywhere below their shoulders, and then turned around and slammed the door with a huff. Just as the two boys were starting to relax (read: Kurt had stopped looking like he was going to sprain something by breathing), the door opened again, albeit only a crack. "Um, I still need the boombox..."

Puck rolled his eyes and physically pried Kurt's fingers from his arm. "The beater, right?"

"Uh-huh." Quinn sounded like she had something caught in her throat, but Puck really wasn't going to push the issue at the moment.

"Got it." He grabbed it and walked over to the door, carefully not tripping on the stored soccer nets as he did so. He handed it out, peering around the door and squinting against the brightness. "Here. Look, um, can we talk about this later?" She nodded, an edge of hysteria to the motion. However, she didn't drop the boombox, so he took it as a good sign. "We gonna be okay?"

She gave him a brave smile, and while he could tell it was forced, it had just enough pep to be reassuring. "We'll be fantastic, Puck, like always. Just, give me a couple days."

He nodded, the movement jerkier than he'd intended it to be. "See you tomorrow, Quinn."

She waved and started off across the field, and he turned back to the silent boy who had edged further back into the recesses of the storage shed. Kurt had his arms crossed, shoulders hunched in a way that implied he expected something nasty to be coming his way. "Kurt?"

"It's over, right?" Kurt straightened his shoulders, and Puck could _see_ the righteous indignation building up. Wrongfully, as it happened, but telling Kurt things didn't always go quite the way one wanted it to. "Tripped over the line a little, but now you're after the right kind of ass?" He scoffed, blowing ineffectually at a piece of hair which had fallen into his eyes. "I don't even need to ask, do I? Because it's one of _those_ rules. Don't you glare at me. I get it, okay-"

Puck _was_ glaring at him, although for different reasons that Kurt clearly believed. Finally he resorted to kissing Kurt to shut him up. "Don't you _dare_ put words in my mouth. First, Quinn isn't going to say a fucking _thing_, so climb right back down off that high horse. Second, this isn't over unless I _tell you_ it's over. Am I asking you to leave?"

"I, uh-"

"Exactly." Puck caught him roughly around the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss, sliding his free hand down to start unbuckling Kurt's probably-unpronounceable-designer-belt. Sometimes, just sometimes, it was good to have lived in the same town with the same people for as long as he could remember. Those kinds of friends were few, but they could also be counted on in a pinch. Things with Quinn would shake out, and if not, well, there was always blackmail...

~ Finis ~


End file.
